


Blue

by deathlybijoumme



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Drift Side Effects, Hospitalization, M/M, Post PR1, Self Harm, Sort Of, The Drift (Pacific Rim), the Precursors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-12 18:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21480697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlybijoumme/pseuds/deathlybijoumme
Summary: This was originally going to be a seperate companion piece but it got long and I feel like they should posted together instead of apart.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Hermann dreams in blue. Drift blue, kaiju blue. Blue so dark it looks black, blue-tinted with grey, blue so bright that it looks like a warning sign. It's been like this since the drift- his drift. 

He hasn't seen Newton in two weeks. But he's felt him. Felt for the first time just how hard he hits the ground after a manic period, and it's driving him insane. He's got enough doubt, warped self-perception, and exhaustion for two men, he doesn't need a third. Three’s a crowd, and he's never like crowds, now has he?

His thoughts have been like that lately, all jumbled and full of self-directed questions and the odd idiom he'd never use. After-effects of the drift. 

He pours himself a cup of coffee and sees the now very empty lab. It is like Newton to leave a mess and not be incredibly concerned with fixing it. (Other people look. He sees).

The homemade neural bridge is sitting on the floor where he threw it, and the now-dead segment of Kaiju brain is floating, listless, in its tank. There's a missed splotch of kaiju blood on Newt’s desk. The desk itself is full of scattered papers, and he can tell without searching that some are missing. If he looked in his room, he knows he'd find that some clothes are missing there too, and a bag. Or perhaps he’d find nothing but a suspiciously dust-free patch on a floor or shelf where a bag had been already waiting.

On his side of the line, there's chalk dust all over the floor by his boards, and his calculations still sit there, half pristine. Textbooks and treatises sit scattered, half of them still open to where he’d last read them.

He's been avoiding coming in here _since_ the drift. 

The problem with then English pronoun he, is that when talking about two men, it can be confusing to know which one is meant. Hermann cannot tell which he he means sometimes as of now. It will fade. Affect effects fade with time. He wonders if it's worse for him since he drifted with both a man and a hivemind. Not his field of study, but it would be interesting if he didn't feel like doing something stupid just to stop feeling like… well, like Newt does right now. 

He should probably be more empathetic, he thinks as he settles on the couch, resting his cane against his knee. He's always struggled with that. 

He wonders if Newt will get five final tattoos. He wonders where he'd put them if he does. How does a man fit fifty-one monsters in his body, on his body? 

If Newt doesn't get them, he might. It's only fair to help share the load, isn't it? He's got enough of his own to carry, but he's seen inside Newt’s head and the man needs help, and who else is going to do it? Not his family, not his friends (he doesn't really have any), not a partner (Hermann has been his only partner in the past two years and he ended the last one before that on bad terms). 

(When did he start calling him Newt?)

There won't be a parade in their honor. That's for the people who punched giant monsters and almost died in explosions, for action heroes. Not for easily left behind people who almost fry their brains and help the action heroes save the world. Newt was wrong. If he had died he wouldn't be a rock star, all he'd be was dead. He thinks he knows this.

A peek at the clock says it's been an hour. 

He used to want quiet. Now it isn't quite quiet but he can't bear it all the same, yet the alternative is even more unbearable. The after-effects are stronger when those involved are in close proximity, and he's not sure he could bear that. Is it always this bad for him, or did the Kaiju make it worse? They had to make it worse. No one gets their brain fried twice without some negative effects.

His own hands haven't properly stopped shaking since. He thinks of his struggle to so much as grasp Newt’s hand two weeks ago. How his hands shook when pulling off the PONS. Of cradling Newt’s head to his chest until the other man’s spasms stopped, while his just didn’t. 

That was a situation he would’ve once prayed to G-d to never be in again, etched into him. He remembers the feel of Newt’s breathing against his chest, Newt’s hand slowly grasping his own, Newt leaning on him, the relief of being able to actually be able to care for him for once and him not being dead. 

Hermann gets the urge to pace. This would’ve been alien to him two weeks ago. Now he feels it several times a day. 

There’s a worn track in the floor where he could, one that crosses the line down the middle four distinct times where the paint has been worn almost off. He probably would, if walking wasn’t such a pain. 

Hermann gets up anyways and makes his way to Newt’s desk. He doesn’t expect to find anything of course but just wants to see. He can’t focus. All he does is find his gaze settled on that dried splotch of Kaiju blood. 

He could never quite tell what color Newt’s eyes were, but right now he thinks they’re the same color as that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a seperate companion piece but it got long and I feel like they should posted together instead of apart.

Newt wasn't quite himself anymore. It wasn't just the kaiju, or the ghost drifts hammering at his skull, or almost getting eaten, no. Something had just shifted. He could feel himself dragging down the mood, whatever it was, so he kept to himself. No one noticed that he’d been hiding in his room. 

(He wonders if it's partially because of the drift with the kaiju and the fact that the nearest thing to them is a brain sitting in a high security storage unit somewhere, probably hundreds of miles away. “What are the ghost effects of a kaiju drift?” would be a good study.)

Well, Hermann noticed. But no one noticed Hermann either- it was their thing. Passing under the radar, and being the only one to see the other one. 

Hermann was… complicated now. Always had been, but now it was worse, like an equation your teacher hadn't bothered to teach you properly. Maybe the ‘something’ has made him not quite himself too. Maybe it was only Hermann that shifted and Newt just felt like it was him. Maybe maybe maybe. 

(Hermann hated how much Newt considered “maybe”s. He found no comfort in the unknown, especially not at times like these.) 

What wasn't a maybe was the nightmares. Some of them were drift side effects- dreams replaying that weren’t his at all. Others were worse. In one he surfaces from that drift on the street in Hong Kong and is greeted with the sight of Hermann, blood pouring from his face, lying still on the ground. In another, Otachi catches him and he learns what having your legs ripped off feels like in dreams. 

Newt, as a side effect of the drift, had seen some of Hermann’s own nightmares. In it, he was a kaiju, and leveled a city. Newt, characteristic of himself, had not brought it up. Too close to something very messy and emotional, and the only kind of messy he liked involved intestines. And that… that was something he didn't want to come to. For either of them.

(He can’t even think about another nightmare of Hermann’s that he saw. He’d been joking about it being Hermann’s fault if he died during the first drift. Apparently, to Hermann, it wouldn’t be much of a joke.) 

That was why he left.

It'd been an argument- just a little one, not even the kind that would usually make him angry. He can't even remember what it was about but he remembers the rage he felt. He wanted to grab and hit and-

He can't bear to think about it. He didn't do anything, but Hermann noticed him go still. Saw his shaking hands grip his own arms through his leather jacket. Asked what was wrong. And what could he tell him? ‘Oh not much Hermann, I just had a flash of incandescent, kaiju-like rage in response to you interacting with me in a way we do almost constantly as part of our shared cultural background that forms one of the foundations of our relationship?’ 

No. Too messy. Too much. He can fix this. Hermann never has to know that he almost- that he thought about- he'd never do it, they both know it, but still. 

As he gets on the bus, he keeps thinking that he can fix this to himself. And he tries. And he tries again. And again. And after he tries, he wakes up in a field in France, with no memory of how he got there. 

(He hadn't needed to pack a bag. One was already ready for him.)

He gets used to the blackouts after he wakes up in Sweden, then Britain, then Argentina. Gets used to having to physically rip his own hand away from the phone when he wants to call Hermann, or when Hermann calls him. He can't… he can't know, not until he's fixed this. He's given up on him never knowing, but he doesn't trust his own hands anywhere near Hermann until this is fixed. 

(Hermann doesn't trust his hands either sometimes but for very different reasons. He has spilled drinks on himself and other people more times than he can count.)

After a few months of that, the attempted calls become less frequent. Maybe once a month instead of every few days. He listens to the voice mails he leaves. 

They’re usually like

“Dr. Geiszler, I thought you were better than this. You do realize you're still needed, don't you? You could at least call your own father, or your uncle, who don't even know if you're alive, by the way. Or do you not care- have you gotten yourself wrapped up in some nonsense? I know you listen to these. I know you're alive. What on earth are you doing?”

Newt wishes they were more like

“Newton, I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm worried. Whatever it is, let me help. Please call me back. Please don't try to do this alone.”

Then he could at least have comfort. He could feel far less lonely. He could pretend he’s being brave by not talking to anyone he cares about instead of what is; utterly afraid. 

(In the back of his head he knows that's close to what Hermann wants to say, too.)

He wonders how long it will take for each of them to give up on him, who will be the last. Because they will give up on him, everyone does. He knows his father is worried, and his uncle. They leave him messages sometimes too. Mako tries calling him, too, and Tendo. He doesn't answer any of them either. Even his mother tries to call him. 

He can't answer any of them, is the problem. He's been blacking out and that's… that's bad enough, losing time and not knowing what he's done in that time. What if he blacks out near them and hurts someone? 

The blackouts stop a year later, and he thinks it's a relief. He rushes to his phone when he realizes, and then he hears something. Well, not hears. Hearing implies it comes from outside your head. 

He gets a Thought that isn't his. Because that’s what it is, a capital T thought. It’s loud and it makes his hands shake and it isn’t human and his nose is bleeding and-

And then it stops.

That little development comes to a head one day in America. He can't even hear himself think, the Precursors are so loud, so demanding. He's in the bathroom, trying to brush his damn teeth, and one of the Thoughts makes his hand jerk. Newt gags on the toothbrush and almost vomits. 

He looks at himself in the mirror and notices one of his eyes is an electric blue. No, not electric. Kaiju. 

“Get out of my head.” Any other time he’d feel at least a little silly, telling this to a mirror, but they’re so damn loud that thinking about anything being ridiculous doesn’t fit in his head. “Get out of my head.” He says again, louder this time. 

It only gets louder. And clearer. 

Newt’s nose starts to bleed and he thinks to himself “fuck it”. He locks eyes with himself in the mirror. Blue has started to creep into his other iris.

He hits his head as hard as he can against the mirror.

And does it again. And again. There’s little bits of glass in his hair, but he doesn’t stop. There’s blood creeping down his face, but he doesn’t stop. His glasses are splintering but he doesn’t stop. His head is spinning but he doesn’t stop. There’s a hand on his shoulder but he doesn’t stop.

It worked, is the first thing he thinks when he wakes up in the hospital. His head, for once, just has his own noise. Then he notices that he's in a hospital, and he wants to panic.   
The hospital staff, Newt does not have to learn, do not care. They pity, or fascinate, but do not care. Thankfully it works in his favor- he’s out within the week. It’s a good thing he knows the right things to say to convince people that he’s a lot less crazy than he is. 

The Precursors are back, not even two days later. They are back and he cannot do this alone and he needs to stop lying to himself. He needs Hermann, oh god, what has Hermann been going through?

He gets in his car and drives. 

He blacks out and crashes into a tree.

He tries to call Hermann. No one picks up. 

After awhile, he gives in. 

He drifts.

It hurts, but less than the first time. And he suddenly knows what he'd been doing during those blackouts. He sees himself, breaking into places, grabbing drift tech, breaking into other places where kaiju parts are stored, and looking for a brain. 

The blackouts had stopped after he'd found one. This same one, actually. The thing about drifting is, the more you do it, the stronger your connection to your partner becomes. The other thing is, drifting has a mildly addictive aspect to it. And Newt had not only drifted three times with kaiju. That'd be bad enough, drifting with a biotechnologically advanced hive mind. He also had a bit of a problem in his brain that made him a lot more prone to addiction. That same problem also gave him issues with abandonment. 

And a brain in a tank can't leave you, can it? It can't give up on you. It can't argue, make you mad enough that you're scared of your own hands because of thing in your head because it is the thing in your head now. 

It can't bother you for a year and then not pick up when you try to call. 


End file.
